Chapter 10: The Empress’s New Name

Chapter 10

“Ah, it seems you’ve already learned and mastered the customs of the capital, contrary to my expectations. A wise woman indeed, already well aware of her role as future Empress.”

Clearing his throat to dispel the awkwardness, the Chancellor smoothly continued speaking.

“Still, as this is an unfamiliar place, you must feel some discomfort, and it will take time for affection to grow between husband and wife—”

“To be made Empress is already a great honor; what more could I possibly desire? Please, have your way.”

“……”

Once again interrupted, the Chancellor found himself speechless. He narrowed his eyes, then widened them, scrutinizing Evening.

“Evening Flam… that should be correct.”

‘Could she have been switched on the way here? Replaced with a local noble’s daughter or a servant? No. The woman before him was undeniably Evening.’

Her delicate features, inherited from the Margrave, her long, flowing platinum hair, and skin as pale as the northern snows—all were unmistakably hers. Her slender, long eyelashes framed eyes the fresh green of grass, and when her lips were sealed, she exuded the aura of a cold beauty. The shadow of the Evening he remembered from childhood remained vividly. Unless magic had been cast or a miracle had occurred, this was indeed Evening.

“Oh no, I am now Evening Winb.”

The Evening from his memories, yet with a face he didn’t recall, greeted him brightly.

“Henceforth, I shall assist Erich and do my utmost as Empress. I look forward to working with you.”

A quiet shock washed over the Chancellor. The Margrave’s daughter, who had ventured into peril to save Withelin from the Emperor’s tyranny, was now currying favor with that very Emperor. Evening Flam, once the epitome of elegance, was now brazenly declaring herself Evening Winb with an unbefitting expression.

“Ah…”

One might have maligned her actions as cunning, akin to a bat’s treachery, yet the anti-imperial faction’s contempt for the Emperor remained unshaken.

“Such…”

Thus, Evening’s complete submission appeared to them as both a miserable endurance and a sacred sacrifice.

“To go to such lengths for her family and people.”

Was this the feeling of kneeling at an enemy’s feet, bowing one’s forehead to the ground, all to prevent bloodshed for family and subjects? It was like witnessing the heroic tales of ancient nobles who led their people and became lords.

Overcome with emotion, the Chancellor furrowed his brow, a sorrowful expression on his face. Tears shimmered in his eyes, threatening to fall.

“Chancellor, why are you weeping? There’s nothing more unsightly than an old man shedding tears.”

The Chancellor glared at Erich, who was mocking him. His vivid gaze, brimming with resentment, was sharp enough to pierce Erich.

“You should be rejoicing that the marriage uniting two feuding factions is already off to a smooth start.”

“Yes, Your Majesty. Indeed.”

The Chancellor, his face contorted with discomfort, huffed through his nose.

In a court where one’s position was dictated by family influence, even the Chancellor was not particularly adept at politics or at concealing his expressions. Just as Erich lacked skill in pretense, the Chancellor was equally clumsy at hiding his emotions.

Once, this would have annoyed Erich, but now he found a certain amusement in it. Watching the nobles fail to conceal their indignation at his every action was endlessly diverting.

“It seems everyone is so moved by our marriage that they’re shedding tears.”

‘Everything would have been perfect, were it not for his tactless fiancée whispering in his ear.’

Erich turned to Evening with a sour expression. Her mature face, which should have been haughty, greeted him with an unbecoming smile.

“Do they look pleased?”

Erich’s head leaned in so close that his forehead would nearly bump hers if he were to tilt his head forward. He growled lowly from a distance where their noses almost touched, yet Evening neither flinched nor recoiled in fear. She didn’t even make a sour face.

She glanced at the Chancellor and the court officials lined up behind him, then whispered,

“Of course. To be welcomed so warmly, it touches my heart too.”

“Why would they be pleased?”

“Just as you said, Erich, the two feuding factions are on the verge of reconciliation. It must have been difficult for Your Majesty to decide to marry a woman you barely know, all for the sake of harmony… So it’s truly a relief to see them welcome us so warmly. I’ll do my best too.”

“……”

‘That was no answer at all. The Chancellor was clearly suppressing his fury, yet this woman was prattling on, flattering him.’

“What foolish talk. Who marries for harmony? I simply couldn’t resist you.”

The mention of ‘harmony’ instantly dispelled the pleasure he had taken in embarrassing the Chancellor. Evening didn’t stop there, further unsettling his already sour mood.

“Please don’t say such things. If others hear you say that, I won’t be able to maintain my composure.”

‘Her shy face, devoid of any hint of displeasure, was unsettling.’

Erich, his face contorted into a grimace, pushed Evening’s shoulder and turned away. “To my chambers.”

“Yes~!”

Perhaps mistaking his dismissal for an invitation to his chambers, Evening scurried after him.

‘His steps, which should have been light with triumph, felt heavy. He had considered this the optimal marriage, but perhaps he had miscalculated. Six days on the journey from the Margraviate to the capital. A week since he had met Evening as his fiancée. Erich had been continuously plagued by her innocent, tactless, and utterly unfathomable flattery.’

****

Erich Winb, the Emperor of Withelin, strode through the corridor with a speed akin to a sprint. Behind him, his fiancée, clad in a dress, scurried to keep pace.

Erich glanced back unpleasantly at his fiancée trailing him. Her presence grated on his nerves, making his insides itch with irritation.

‘Despite being a well-bred noble.’

Erich loathed nobles. ‘Despised’ would be a more accurate word. Even though he himself was a noble among nobles, an Emperor born of the imperial family, he still hated them. He disliked nobles so intensely that he felt no remorse about it.

Naturally so. The nobles, who had grown up wanting for nothing, had scorned Erich during his childhood.

In a perilous world often fraught with sibling rivalries for succession and instances where less legitimate heirs ascended the throne through happenstance, Erich, as the third-generation legitimate eldest son, possessed invaluable legitimacy. Yet, the nobles disdained him like a commoner, solely because he couldn’t wield magic.

‘That blasted magic.’

In Withelin, magic was both a noble privilege and the very foundation that upheld their class. In ancient times, those wielding powerful magic led conquest wars, elevating their renown. They seized territories to become lords, and the most exceptional among them founded nations. From those distant days to the present Withelin, countless rises and falls of dynasties occurred, yet strong magic users always remained at their core. Potent magic equated to power and authority. Recognizing magic as a dominant trait inherited at a high rate, people began drawing magic users into their clans to solidify their influence. Much like breeding cattle or swine, they repeatedly intermarried with those who possessed magic, while expelling those who did not. Not content with this, they sometimes forced children who weren’t heirs into celibacy to prevent the outflow of powerful magic or to avert succession disputes. Occasionally, commoners with no noble ties would awaken exceptional magic, but they quickly ascended to nobility. Typically, nobles coveting their abilities would adopt them or marry them to their children; rarely, individuals would accumulate achievements through their own efforts and earn titles. Thus, over hundreds of years, magic became the exclusive domain and emblem of the nobility. It was no longer merely a means to maintain power, but power itself.

Born as the Crown Prince in such a Withelin, Erich was repeatedly tested and deemed to possess no magic until just before his coming-of-age ceremony. His magic, ‘Immortality,’ first activated during an accident at that very ceremony. This alien and horrifying magic was of a kind that could only be discerned by experiencing death. Consequently, his childhood, spent believing he had no magical abilities whatsoever, was endlessly tumultuous. At around ten years old, those who had been certain they would soon discover Erich’s magic gave up by the time he turned fourteen, and by seventeen, there was strong sentiment to appoint his younger brother as Crown Prince. Throughout those long years, Erich endured constant humiliation and scorn. Though his status as Crown Prince prevented outright verbal abuse, his keen intellect made him acutely aware of the frigid gazes directed his way.

‘Truly…’

It was a humiliating treatment. His handsome features, his swordsmanship rivaling that of a warrior, even his political acumen in achieving his desires—all were dismissed simply because he lacked magic.

Originally, magic users were revered because of their fierce contributions in warfare. However, the era had shifted, with tactics and strategy becoming more crucial than formidable magic, and decades had passed since the great war ended. Even possessing powerful magic offered few practical applications, yet the ingrained notions within the nobles’ minds refused to dissipate.

Thinking of those who had supported Prom, a boy not yet even in adolescence, as Emperor instead of Erich, he felt no sympathy whatsoever. Even now, Prom, at only fourteen, was an innocent, kind boy who adored his brother, but he lacked the capacity to be an emperor. The magic of shooting arrows was hardly a useful skill for governance. Nevertheless, the nobles had bypassed Erich to support Prom. While it was likely that having Prom as emperor would have better served their interests, the prevailing sentiment was that the throne could not be entrusted to an unqualified half-wit. The thought of that foolish decision filled him with disgust.

No one had sided with Erich, save for his father, the late Emperor.

“Do we have much further to go? The palace is incredibly vast. If I’m not careful, I might collapse from hunger on my way to dinner.”

‘Evening, chattering behind him, was the epitome of the despicable nobles who had scorned Erich.’